Someone Loves You
by Lucy Kay
Summary: Though he thought he should be – what with his easygoing, observant outlook on life – Toby was not in any way, shape, or form a scribe. Three-Shot. Gift fic! :D Cheesy as hell. There's a slight focus on Paolo, but he's not in the character list. Picture is not mine.
1. Someone

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the game I'm writing about. Joke's on me. Ba-dum-tss.

This was for my own frustrations with a severe lack of inspiration and motivation. For when the words aren't coming when you want them to, and if they're even the words you're looking for. And Toby is such a sweet soul, so I'm glad I could finally write something for him.

Special thanks to Accidentally The Whole Fanfic who _accidentally_ (haha username puns) helped me get my kick back with some kind, encouraging words and a handful of awesome fanfics. Go check out his stories – he's one of the funniest authors around here, and he's got a little bit of everything. His writing got me back on my feet, so I couldn't be more grateful. Inspiration is a wonderful thing. Thanks again!

This is a three-shot! Because I've never done one of those before. It was fun. :)

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Someone Loves You**

* * *

It wasn't that he was lazy. Well, some would argue that laziness was precisely the only vice of Toby's. But he didn't like to think of it that way, and he thought quite a lot about it. Rest should be well-respected among the other various aspects of good health. What's the harm in a good nap? Or two? Or ten?

Maybe he was a bit over-zealous.

Whatever the case, Toby was feeling quite out of his element. He was the guy anyone could count on for a nice, carefree chat. Or just some good, silent company in the afternoon. The let-loose-and-unwind guy. The lean-on-my-shoulder type. So for him to be working so furiously on something in a clear attitude of 'I-don't-want-to-be-bothered' was strange indeed.

Though he thought he should be – what with his easygoing, observant outlook on life – Toby was not in any way, shape, or form a scribe. But, oh, how he needed to be!

Toby rolled his shoulders, trying to get comfortable against the old birch trunk. He peered over at his motionless fishing rod sticking straight up out of the grass where he had planted it. The bobber for the freshwater fishing he was doing on the side remained motionless in the still part of the river. With a sigh for the lack of event, Toby was forced to stare back down at his empty notebook page.

The idea had come from out of the blue, like an elusive shadow under the surface of the water. Toby had been struggling since one particular Tuesday when the farmer from the Clarinet District didn't just bring him some of the usual, extra rice.

Toby had been fishing – typical of him – down by the seashore on the outskirts of town. He was hunkered down in the sand, feeling quite content with the warm sun and scent of the salty sea. The fish weren't biting, but that hardly mattered. It was almost nine anyways.

He furtively glanced over his shoulder and found himself disappointed. Maybe there wasn't any extra today. It's not like he was waiting to be fed like the rest of her livestock, good gracious. He wasn't desperate for a meal even though he had stopped bringing his box of onigiri around with him just in case she'd show up. But there was no mistaking it was something Toby had begun to look forward to.

Molly's thumping foot falls echoed against the hard-packed path behind him. _Yes! She's here!_

Toby played it off casually, rising to his feet and dusting the sand from his clothes. He waited in anticipation, hoping he wasn't looking like too much of a space cadet. He had a nasty habit of drifting that he needed to get in control of or else he'd look like an idiot in front of her. Again.

Steeling himself, Toby turned as suavely as he could with an approachable smile. "Hey, Mo—uh…"

Hayden's gruff beard was where the top of Molly's head should have been. In Toby's imagination anyways. He quickly gripped his rod with both hands, looking back out at the ocean. "Er… morning!"

"G'mornin,'" Hayden greeted in his low baritone, side stepping him to go further down the beach. He held a burlap bag and a trowel, collecting clams for the Brass Bar's Tuesday special.

 _Well, that was embarrassing…_ At least Toby hadn't called him 'Molly' outright. So it could have been worse, he supposed.

"Hey, Toby!"

Toby's heart jumped so severely he almost threw his pole. Quickly turning, he found the object of his thought ramblings wearing her usual, sunny smile. She was holding a neatly-tied kerchief in her little hands. He fumbled for a greeting as he tried to smile naturally back at her. "Hello, Molly!"

Molly was still staring at him expectantly. "What's kickin?'"

"Er, uh…" Toby scratched at his head. _Quick, say something cool!_ "Um, not the fish? Haven't had a bite… all… morning. Good morning! By the way."

That's _exactly_ what he was going for. Tripping over his tongue like a fish out of water. He deserved it if Molly laughed in his face. _There's a special place in the realm of stupid for people as thick as you._

"Aw, shame to hear that," she sympathized, rocking on her heels. She seemed to be completely oblivious to his awkwardness, which Toby was incredibly grateful for. She sent a jolt through him as she happily slapped him on the back for support. "But, hey, you're not all out of luck! I made too much rice again, and I know how much you like sashimi…"

"Sashimi?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Toby watched as she pulled the knot loose and opened the box, presenting it to him. Along with two rice balls sat a completed bento with sashimi and soy sauce in a poor, yet carefully arranged display. _So cute…_

"Ta-da!" Molly cheered, slamming the lid back down. She bunched the fabric instead of re-tying it and set it on the sand next to Toby's sandals. She popped back up, winding her hands behind her back with the wind catching her soft locks of hair. "There's plenty to go around today, so promise you'll take a lunch break super soon! Gotta keep up your strength wrestling in all those monster hauls!"

"I… promise…" was all Toby could manage to say.

"Cool! Catch ya later!" She gave him a merry salute and was on her way. Molly made sure to say a quick hello to Hayden as well before she disappeared up the path towards town.

Much like Toby wasn't a writer, Molly was not a chef. Even so, Toby loved when she made him food. She had been on Castanet for a few years now; there was no way she was still making too much for herself. Molly was going out of her way to bring Toby a lunch, and he appreciated it. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, and she did it rather consistently. His only worry at this point was that if Molly thought he was completely helpless and was in need of her charity. Someday, he'd have to give her something just as nice in return.

And there it began.

If it wasn't obvious enough, Toby was unequivocally smitten with a girl who couldn't shape a rice ball. But she was so much more than that to him. She was cheery and optimistic and driven like nobody else. She was a laugh on cloudy days and sweet sunshine when it rained. When she was mad, he got angry for her. When she was feeling blue, he was glum, too. He wanted to just sit with her and enjoy her presence. She was outgoing and radiant and just… so wonderful. And so totally out of reach.

Of course, Molly was popular. She was familiar with all of the townsfolk, having a schedule packed with socializing. She went to the bar, knocking 'em back with the guys. She'd spend her busy days hopping between the various shops to visit with the families and lend a helping hand. All of the girls said she was the sweetest friend they had, and all of the guys were desperate to get her attention.

Toby knew he'd lose in the end to the real Casanovas. The guys like Owen with the impressive muscles and kind spirit to match. Or Calvin who was dashing and mysterious in every way imaginable. Molly had even befriended the surliest of his peers, keeping inside jokes with Chase and getting on Gill's good side. With so many superior choices, it sounded ludicrous that Molly would ever go for the boy who smelled like tuna.

Which forced Toby to think differently. He had to do something special to set himself apart, but he had to save his own skin when it all inevitably went south. Something memorable but not scarring. Something meaningful but safe.

So Toby spent his pocket change at the General Store, getting a weird look from Barbara when he selected a red spiral notebook and a box of cheap pens. "Are you sure that's all you need, honey?"

"This is it," he happily replied, feeling confident in his plan as he handed her the coins.

"Alrighty, then!" She sang, cashing it into the register with a merry trill. Barbara offered him a bag, which he declined as he tucked his purchases into his lunch basket. "Have some thoughts you need to scribble down?"

"Something like that. You take care!" Toby bowed to her in farewell and escaped her shop.

He snuck by the quiet house on the hill on his way to a good spot by the river, peering around like he was going to be caught red-handed. Why he felt so skittish, he wasn't so sure other than it being his go-to feeling whenever he was around Molly. And her house was just as chipper as she always was. So well-rounded and well-kept. His feet paused on the path as he appreciated the farm in full from the gables of her little home to the impressive barn and her sweeping fields. To think that Molly could work so hard to make this place look the way it did and still have time to visit him with extra rice made his heart swell.

A cow made eye contact with him and loudly mooed, swishing its tail at the flies. Toby quickly hurried along.

Down the hill, across the river, and into the woods Toby walked until he was in a quiet, shady niche. It was the perfect spot to cast out his rod and get to work on writing Molly a poem.

Toby had decided a poem was just the thing he wanted to write. It'd get his feelings across to her, and Molly would see how pensive and sophisticated and all of that important romance stuff he could be. And he always had a fondness for snail mail. There was something special about opening a mailbox and finding an envelope sent from a friend. This would set him apart!

He sat himself down in front of an old birch tree, testing that the grass wasn't too wet as he plopped down and got comfy. Toby propped up his knees, took out his new notebook, and uncapped a fresh pen. He settled in, waiting for the magic of inspiration to happen.

It wasn't long before Toby began fidgeting. He casted his fishing rod again and again, never happy with where the bobber sat. When he finally stopped fiddling with it, his hand found the grass to tug. And the clouds in the sky were so clean and white, just like pillows for daydreamers like him.

"Too distracting…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Focus! Poem. For Molly…"

Before he could begin to wonder at the prose of verse, Toby found his penmanship had become atrocious over the years. He hadn't properly written anything since his school days, and it showed in his crooked lines and sloppy curves of text. So he tediously practiced his letters, remembering his cursive little by little like riding a bicycle again. The first few pages of his notebook were soon filled with the alphabet. Then it was on to the phrases.

Toby was at a loss. He wrote the classic things that came to mind like 'beauty' and 'roses' and 'heart' and all of that, but he felt like he wasn't getting Molly down as well as he was channeling his inner Julius. This didn't suit Molly at all. It was all wrong.

He flipped to a new page and rested his head back against the tree, staring up at the gaps where he could see sky through the leaves.

The image was similar to a time when he was napping under a tree. In the late afternoon when the sun was cozy, but the bugs were still few. And an acorn had tumbled into his lap.

Toby looked down at the seed in curiosity, staring up and half-expecting to find an angry squirrel with a whole arsenal of nuts to chuck at his head. Instead, he found the upside down face of a brunette. "Hey, Toby!"

His eyes grew wide, wondering how long she had been there. _Was he drooling in his sleep?!_ "Molly? What are you doing up there?"

"Oh, you know… just hanging around," she slyly said, dangling her arms down. Her legs were wrapped around a thick branch, making the blood rush to her head for her bat-like maneuver.

"Be careful; you're up there pretty high!" Toby scrambled to stand to catch her if need be.

But Molly just swung herself upright with a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, you worrywart…"

 _What was she to him? What was… Molly…?_

Toby jumped with a start, the notebook falling from his lap. His pole had been roughly yanked forward while he wasn't paying attention, but the bobber was floating in waves of ripples on its side in the water. Toby went and collected his rod from the shore and reeled in the empty line, thinking he was grateful the fish wasn't big enough to steal his trusty rod, just the bait.

He remembered when something similar happened to Molly. She was fishing with him on a steep slope after a hard rain the previous day. She got a bite on her line, but she wasn't expecting to put up such a fight to keep it. The fish jerked her forward, and she shot down the grass like a penguin on ice. Toby dropped his rod and ran to help her, but Molly pulled herself up on her own, covered head to toe in mud, but in her hand was the end of the line with her first huchen wriggling on the hook.

By the time his line was cast out into the reeds and Toby was sat down yet again after a search for his discarded pen, he felt like he was back to square one. He paged through his work and found nothing he could salvage. But at least he wasn't writing like a troll now.

 _Think! If you could tell her anything, what would you say?_

Toby racked his brains for something, anything. To impress. To really wow. But he couldn't think of a way to amaze Molly when he was so floored by her himself. What could he possibly do for her?

He found himself humming 'my Molly sails over the ocean, my Molly sails over the sea' before he was sure he was going to lose his mind to this. Toby could fill the page with how she was just so great and pretty and kind, but they were all empty compliments unless he could find a way to make her believe them. To prove it.

 _Forget about alliterations and rhyme scheme and all the rest! Just… write what she is. Write Molly._

"Write… Molly," he whispered aloud.

Instead of trying to pin himself down, he let his head go to the clouds, and he began.

 _You are… the most important person in my life._

Toby paused, suddenly realizing the truth. Her goofy grins and her casual shrugs with her hands in her pockets. When she'd tromp around in her farm boots or energetically wave like they were being reunited after years and years even though it was the span of a few hours. Deep in his heart, he understood what he needed to tell her.

 _But I don't know who you are.  
I don't know what's behind your radiant smiles.  
I don't know if you like being busy or if you just wound up that way.  
I don't know what makes your stomach turn or makes your heart jump.  
I don't know you at all.  
But I want to.  
I want to know everything about you.  
I want to understand what it's like to walk in your shoes.  
You're the strongest person I've never known.  
You're the most beautiful person I've never seen.  
I want to be your behind the scenes.  
And I want to make you feel as special and amazing and lucky as you make me feel every time you look at me.  
Even if I never can, I just wanted you to know that…  
Someone loves you._

It turned out more like a letter than a poem, but that was just fine with him. A letter was safer than dabbling in poetry and embarrassing himself any more than he needed to.

Toby rewrote it once, twice, and then three times on a clean sheet towards the middle of the notebook for good measure. He meticulously tore it from the binding, careful not to leave any bumpy edges. He closed his book and stared down at the finished product, finding more space left over than he expected to see.

Chewing on his lip, Toby signed his name at the bottom and folded the paper into thirds. Slapping it under the cover of his notebook, he hid it all away in his lunch basket and stared out at the water feeling queasy. Now he just had to put it in her mailbox and never talk to her again.

 _Sounds like a plan._


	2. Loves

The little red mailbox was the scariest thing Toby had ever seen.

He could have easily dropped his letter off at Town Hall and never thought twice about it, but Mayor Hamilton would have been the one to take it from him. Full of jolly, innocent questions like 'what's this for' and 'why are you writing to Molly' and 'why don't you ever visit' and all sorts of hassle. Or far worse, Gill could be sitting at the front desk, and he'd look down his nose at him and testily tell Toby that he'd have to wait for him to deliver it because he doesn't do rush.

But Toby wanted to keep this as low key and personal as possible. Perhaps it was just the way he was. He could be quite stubborn and set in his ways when he wanted to be.

He opened the mailbox, and the door squeaked at the pull. Toby wasn't worried that Molly would overhear since he specifically chose six in the evening to deliver it as he knew she'd be out and about still. But the rusty hinges were still unnerving, so he quickly slid his letter inside and shut the cubby.

Toby turned on his heel with a heavy sigh. _It was done. Now it was just a matter of waiting…_

He wasn't halfway down the hill when he stopped. Toby had been so courageous up until that point, but he felt his world spin on this fixed moment in time. Molly was going to read that and see that he wrote it. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if she hated it? Or thought he was creepy?

 _She can't read it!_

The idea of rejection over-whelming him, he took off in a sprint back for her mailbox, kicking up dust. Taking his letter back from it, he went to leave and yet again stopped himself.

 _But… I've worked so hard to get here…_

Feeling so torn, Toby decided on a compromise. And tear is exactly what he did.

He ripped open the envelope and unfolded his letter. Toby's eyes flashed across the words until they glued to his name at the bottom. Firmly taking the paper, he turned it on its side and ripped across the blue lines in a diagonal. Pocketing his name, he looked over the lopsided letter and the sad state of the envelope. He felt he was at a loss for time and stuffed the letter on its own into her box and promptly left.

 _I think that went rather well._

* * *

He hadn't expected anything to happen really, but absolutely nothing was a little disappointing.

Toby ran a hand through his hair, sprawled out across the counter at the Fishery where his Uncle Ozzie held his business. His little cousin Paolo was mimicking him at the end of the table, propping his chin up in his palms and huffing at his hair poking out from his cap.

"Whatcha waitin' for, Toby?" Paolo asked, looking at his cousin enthusiastically.

"I'm not waiting," Toby lied, sitting up straighter on the stool. "I'm just relaxing."

"Oh. Well, ya look like you're waitin' for somethin,'" Paolo shrugged. He jumped away from the counter and looked over his shoulder. Toby was still staring off into space, obviously bothered. Paolo ran to one of the ice boxes full of fish and held up a bonito. "Hey, Toby! Toby, didja see the bonito Dad and I caught this morning? Look how big they are!"

"That's really great, Paolo. You're becoming quite the angler," Toby smiled but didn't look his way.

 _Even fish wasn't getting his attention?!_ Paolo wondered what on Earth could be bothering him. For the past couple of days, he had been acting strangely. Toby had always been prone to dozing or staring off into space, but there were big bags under his eyes like he _wasn't_ sleeping. And that was just plain odd. And though he never showed any kind of bad temper, his responses were all clipped and vague. His cousin was listless, and it bothered little Paolo who truly admired him.

Paolo tossed the fish back onto the ice and rubbed his hands off on his shorts. Toby's contagious frown was about to overtake him in the awkward silence when the door swung open, flooding the floor with late afternoon sunshine.

"Toby!"

At the call, the fisherman scrambled into attention, looking like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Paolo watched as the farmer Molly sprinted to the counter and caught herself on the edge, nearly sending herself straight over it and into his cousin. She slammed both hands on the counter with the widest smile he'd ever seen on a person.

"H-hello, Molly! You look like you're having a good day," Toby greeted her, standing stock still and spine straight.

Paolo meandered by the railing, feeling like he was eavesdropping. He propped up his chin and stuck his feet through the bars and balanced himself there.

"I'm so glad I found you here," she panted. It seemed she had been running for quite some time to be in such a lack of breath. Molly tucked her hair behind her ear. "Toby, you're the best advice giver I know! And I'm a gal in need of advice."

Toby hesitated, his face falling somewhat. Though he was sure Molly didn't notice, Paolo caught it. _Why was he disappointed?_ "Advice? I… Yeah, I'll do my best. It sounds important. I'm glad you think I'm up to the task."

"Okay, get this," Molly went right into it. She backed away from the counter, giving Toby some room to breathe as she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. Toby's heart caught in his throat as he recognized the lined sheet from his notebook with the sloppy tear at the bottom. It was his letter. She had it. In her hands. Right in front of him. "I got this letter the other day, and I've been thinking about it a lot."

"A-a letter?" Toby's voice painfully cracked as he attempted to sit on the stool behind him, but he backed into it and upset its balance. He whirled about and caught it just in time before it could come crashing to the floor. He awkwardly sat himself down, attempting to look casual about his blunder.

 _Oh, brother…_ Paolo thought, shaking his head at the display. He knew Toby liked Molly. All of the big kids in town seemed to like Molly in some degree, but he didn't know Toby had it this bad.

Molly hugged it to her chest, squeezing it with a happy squeal before she finally pulled it back and looked it over. She held a hand to her heart. "It was… the… I just… It's really great, okay? And super personal, so don't ask to see it like Luna did – you can't!"

"It's great?" Toby inadvertently blurted with a surprised raise of his eyebrows and a hopeful smile.

"Yeah, but it's anonymous… So I don't know who wrote it…" Molly explained, looking down at the words. She had a glint in her eye when she looked back up at Toby, and he flinched back involuntarily. "But I think I have a good guess."

"Oh?" If Toby was a tenor, he just hit the high note.

Molly nodded with decision. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and bit her thumb nail. "Yeah, so… how should I go about confronting him? The way he makes it sound in his letter, I… I'm a little… Okay, I'm _crazy_ nervous. You've got a cool head on your shoulders, so I know I can count on you for an honest answer. How would you react if someone wrote you a love letter?"

 _Huh, that's a good question._ How did Toby expect her to react? Especially when he left it unsigned? Toby scratched at the back of his neck, his eyes wandering away to somewhere safe. He caught his little cousin staring at him, and Paolo stuck out his tongue.

His hand had found its way into his coat pocket. His usual fishing jacket. Toby's fingers touched paper, and he nearly gasped aloud with the evidence so close. _Should he just show it to her? That'd definitely make him out to be a Casanova, but there was no way!_ Toby just… couldn't. He felt like a rock. A rock full of bubbling lava; God, it was so _hot_ in here.

"I-I-I w-would just ask him. I'd get him alone," Toby pointedly shot a look to Paolo who was pretending not to notice, "and ask him outright. Just be subtle. Don't throw it all out there unless you're sure… you know? Take it nice and slow."

"Subtle…" Molly repeated, lost in deep thought as she bobbed her head in agreement with his prognosis.

"I'm sure you've got nothing to lose," he added as an afterthought.

Molly's demeanor had relaxed as his words sunk in. She finally puffed up her chest and nodded decisively. "You're right! As always. Gee, Toby, thanks. I know I can always go to you. You're not like the girls – they all giggle and make fun of me and miss the whole point. You're so… observant."

Toby instantly blushed, pulling at his shirt collar and staring at the clean countertop. "Oh, uh, thank you…"

"Alright, then!" Molly announced in one decibel too high for an indoor voice. Both Toby and Paolo jumped, the younger boy losing his balance on the rail and slipping his shoes back onto flat ground. "I'm off! I'll ask him tonight. Wish me luck!"

Toby's mouth was left hanging open, the reality of the situation sinking in now that she was leaving. She didn't think it was him. Molly had written him off. And she was about to go make a fool of herself in front of the guy she actually had feelings for.

"M-Molly, hold on! Maybe you shouldn't – remember nice and slow? You shouldn't rush these things!" Toby felt like his voice was echoing, but it was falling on deaf ears. Molly was too excited.

She waved and sent a point Paolo's way. "I get it, I get it. You guys have a good day! Paolo, I'm loving the new hat. Snazzy!"

And she was gone. Toby stared in disbelief at the front door, his face going paler and paler as the seconds passed. Paolo took his hat in his hands, making sure it was turned backwards – the way it was cool. Satisfied, he loudly sniffed and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand.

"So… you wrote that, didn't you?"

Toby's head slowly turned to register the little boy, his eyes blinking dumbly with numbed fear. He finally snapped his jaw shut, gritting his teeth, and taking off his jacket to release some of the heat. He slung it over the stool and carefully smoothed out the sleeves. "It doesn't matter. As long as it made her happy, that's all that counts."

"But she's going to go show it to some other loser, and that loser is going to claim it!" Paolo argued, angered that his big cousin was planning on taking this lying down. Well, Toby rather excelled at lying down, but that was beside the point. This looked like a pretty big mess! "You're okay with some chum bucket stealing your girl?"

"She is not my girl," Toby stated the fact conclusively, swallowing hard. He paused for a second, staring at nothing, before he made his way to the back room.

"Hey, Toby!" Paolo tried to hurry after him, but the door swung shut in his nose. He turned the knob with a huff and quickly poked his head around their living space, watching as the following bedroom door quietly shut with a click.

Paolo's shoulders fell, and he sighed. He shut the door and wandered back onto the empty store floor. He passed the bonito displayed on the ice, and he glared at the bulbous eyes on the fish laying there. "What are you lookin' at, huh?"

Now Paolo was grumpy. Paolo didn't like being grumpy, but he couldn't help but be upset seeing Toby act so passive when he was obviously shaken pretty bad. But it wasn't like it was all Molly's fault – Toby didn't sign the stupid letter!

"Who writes love letters anyways?" Paolo grumbled, shoving Toby's jacket to the floor to hop up onto the stool. He sat for a few moments with his elbows on the counter before he gave the coat a sideways glance. Feeling bad about his temper, Paolo jumped back down and lifted up Toby's jacket and dusted it off. He spread it neatly across the counter and smoothed out the wrinkles, hearing a crinkle come from the pocket.

After all that had transpired, Paolo found little guilt when his curiosity urged him to have a poke inside. He dug his hand into the spacious pocket of the blue pin-striped summer jacket and felt a fuzzy edge. Wrapping his little fingers around it, he pulled and revealed a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

Paolo looked at the door to the back over his shoulder and unrumpled the triangular shape. There was nothing on it, so he flipped it around and found just one word. _Toby._

"That dummy _did_ write it…" he mumbled, his little heart breaking for him. "What a chum head."

Crunching the paper back up in his fist, Paolo tossed the jacket back onto the stool where it was left and stood before the door to the living room. But he stopped himself.

There were two ways Paolo could go about this. He could fruitlessly try to convince Toby to take a stand himself, or…

Paolo looked at the paper in his hand and then back at the door, anxiously eyeing it like Toby would pop out and catch him before he could go through with it. He backed up a few steps, testing the floor like he was in a spy movie before he took off in a run for the front door, letting it slam shut behind him.


	3. You

Finding a girl like Molly was no easy task. Paolo had hit a brick wall, almost literally as he scoped out Harmonica Town for her. Then he took the long walk to her farm, feeling like he was going to get into trouble with his dad for not telling anyone where he was going as he took the path alone. But Molly wasn't home, and the sun was starting to set.

For awhile, Paolo sat on Molly's porch. He hugged his knees, feeling like a stranger in a strange land even though her farm was so close to home. He had never been there, and being there alone felt scary. He listened as her livestock grazed and occasionally vocalized their content in moos and baas. A passing butterfly fluttered onto her porch rail next to him, and Paolo watched as it folded its wings open and shut in the dying light. All the while, he held the balled up missing piece of Molly's puzzle in his fist.

Paolo finally gave up after waiting for approximately ten minutes (that was like a whole hour in kid time), and he began the trek home. He imagined all of the yelling he was going to get from his father. Ozzie wasn't a mean parent, but he could be quite the worrier. Single parents were always on high alert like that.

When he saw the familiar lantern lights, Paolo breathed a sigh of relief. He was back on his own turf, and he was feeling the urgent need to find Molly come back and hit him full force. Deciding to take the risk – Paolo had already been missing long enough, so what was a few more minutes? – he set in his determination and jogged across the bridge for his last hope.

He looked up at the friendly sign of the Brass Bar and audibly gulped. _What if they threw him out?_ It was a grown-ups only place, so Paolo had no business in there. He could hear laughing and drum beats and clinking glasses and tumbling poker chips. It was certainly the lion's den if there ever was one on Castanet.

Paolo glanced at the pier and bravely stepped forward. With a heave, he pushed on the door and awkwardly shuffled inside.

The noise was tenfold now that he was amongst the commotion, but Paolo found himself relieved that he had gone immediately unnoticed. At least for the time being. He twisted his cap to make sure the bill was at the nape of his neck and started quietly tip-toing through the patrons in search of the familiar face.

"Hey, Paolo!" A voice greeted him. He recognized it instantly and jumped into attention, ready for a scolding. Ramsey didn't look at him as he examined the cards in his hand. He flicked one onto the table and retrieved a new card, frowning at it. "Whatcha lookin' for this time of night?"

"Yeah, ain't you a little young to be out this late? Not tall enough to ride this ride, ya get what I'm sayin?'" Luke asked, swaying in his chair as he grinned at him. Paolo would have been insulted had it come from anyone else, but even he knew Luke was harmless. A bit dim but harmless.

Owen reached over and grabbed Luke by his vest before he could topple down as he chuckled to himself. "Whoa, there. Your chair's over here, buddy."

"Aw, it's Paolo!" Selena cooed, jumping down from her bar stool and leaving her coconut cocktail. Paolo hesitantly stepped back as she rapidly approached him and squatted down to his level. For a split second, it was just her cleavage in his very confused face. "Hey, there, little guy! What brings you here?"

"I-I-I'm not in t-trouble, right?" Paolo asked the important questions first.

"Heck no!" Kathy called from her own bar stool. She waved him over. "Have a seat!"

"I'm, uh, I'm looking for someone!" He piped up as Selena held her hand out to him.

"Maybe we can help you out, hm?" She asked sweetly, still with her open palm to him.

The guys watched as Paolo reluctantly took her hand, holding his precious piece of paper close to his heart. He followed along as she led him to the bar, and he eyed the empty chair between the girls for a moment. With a huff, he took it at a jump and scrambled to crawl on top of it. Kathy and Selena were on standby, but they were careful to let him do it himself as he settled in and spun around, finally smiling a little as he discovered how fun it was that the stools could go in circles.

"We're going to need something to wash away his troubles, bartender," Kathy ordered with a sly grin. Selena giggled behind her hand as she sat on Paolo's right side, taking up her cocktail for a sip.

From the stove top, Chase eyed Hayden who was smiling like Santa Clause on Christmas Day. He always loved when unexpected guests meandered into his bar. He took up a tall shot glass and filled it with lemonade. He popped an umbrella into it and cut a straw in half to fit. He slid it across the counter to the boy. "Some of the hard stuff."

Kathy and Selena were trying not to lose their cool as Paolo's eyes bugged at the glass offered to him. He pointed at it, trying not to openly gape. "My dad won't get mad at me if I drink this?"

"Only if you don't finish the glass!" Ramsey called, the men around him laughing.

Paolo bent the straw his way and took an uneasy sip. At the sweet taste, he quickly slurped the rest of it down.

"So. What's ailin' ya?" Kathy questioned, tilting her chin as she held up the weight of her head in her hand.

"I'm on a mission. It's top secret," Paolo answered now that he was more at ease. Hayden came by and refilled his glass with some more lemonade. Paolo happily kicked his feet as he drank that round, too. He smacked his lips, looking very self-important. "But I'm kind of a hero."

Selena drummed her fingers on the counter. She gave Kathy a mischievous look. "Oh. Is that so?"

"What's in your hand, Paolo?" Kathy squinted in genuine curiosity, noticing that it seemed to be a scrap of paper.

Paolo hid it under the counter in his lap. "That's the secret! I've gotta find Molly!"

"Molly?" Selena asked. She was taken off guard at the declaration, and she wrinkled her nose. "What do you need Molly for?"

"Nu-uh, I'm not telling," he stubbornly shook his head.

Kathy readjusted her position, folding her arms across the table. "Well, you're quite the little detective to come here looking for her. You just missed her."

"Really?!" Paolo sat up, the straw dropping from his lips.

"Yeah, she just left not five minutes before you walked in," Chase reported from the kitchen, scrubbing a frying pan in the sink.

"Whoa, I gotta go!" Paolo spun too fast and made a dizzy lap around before he saw the ground and leapt from the stool. He regained his balance and ran for the door. "Thanks for the drink, Mr. Hayden!"

"Anytime, Paolo!" Hayden called with a wave.

"Bye, Paolo!" The bar goers echoed their goodbyes as the little tyke ran through the door and out into the night.

"That is _so_ cute," Selena commented once he disappeared. She filched the umbrella from Paolo's drink and stuck it in her own, bouncing the toothpick up and down with her finger. "He should come by more often."

"I wonder why he's looking for Molly. Isn't that a little weird?" Kathy wondered aloud, directing the question at her father. He shrugged, and she hummed to herself as she took a gulp of her beer.

"Probably a school kid crush," Owen answered her, looking much like Ramsey as he concentrated on their card game, debating which play to discard.

"Yeah, you'd know all about those, wouldn't ya, Owen?" Selena teased with her lips hovering at the edge of her glass. She received a whap in the arm from Kathy, and Chase snickered. "Hey!"

With the bar behind him, Paolo looked left and right in the dim twilight. Everything was eerie and tinted blue in the growing darkness. Since there was no one in sight, Paolo made a mad dash for the staircase to the second level of town, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard voices just above his head.

"I'm sorry, I… I don't know what you're talking about, Molly."

No doubt it was coming from the patio outside the Ocarina Inn. Paolo quietly stopped midway up the steps and hid himself against the wall. He was practicing so many of his spy moves today!

"But… I don't understand…" Molly said, her voice growing smaller as bewilderment and embarrassment overtook her.

 _He was too late!_

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll… see you around?" The guy she was talking to asked, sounding a little doubtful.

Molly was quiet for too long. Finally, she mustered: "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry; just forget about it, okay? That was totally out of left field, haha!"

"You alright?" He asked. Which was good, because Paolo was wondering the same thing what with the strain in her voice.

"Of course! See you around!" She happily chirped.

Paolo crept up the stairs on all fours, his heart thumping at the prospect of getting caught. But the footsteps seemed to be going in the opposite direction towards the Clinic. Paolo peeked his nose over the side of the street. Molly was standing alone under the lamplight, watching a figure retreat into the shadows. She waited only a second longer before she twirled on her heel, and Paolo ducked out of sight.

He waited a minute to see if it was safe before peeking up again. Molly was in the shadow of the Inn, sitting on the ground with her head in her knees. Paolo had never seen her – let alone _anyone_ – look so dejected in all his life. Except for maybe Toby. And that was why he was here.

Paolo climbed the last of the steps and stood before her, chewing on his tongue. Swallowing his fears, he walked up to her and watched her shaking shoulders. The letter was in her hand where her arms were folded above her knees.

Done with his timidity, he tapped her on the head. Molly gasped in startled surprise, staring up at him with wide, watery eyes. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Paolo? Is that you? Wh-what are you doing here?"

He got down to her level, much like what Selena had done with him just minutes before. He squatted down in front of her and just silently studied her face for a moment before he made up his mind. He held out his open palm to her where the ball of paper sat.

Molly squinted at him, perplexed. When he didn't say anything, she looked to his hand and bashfully took the paper from it, eyeing his poker faced expression all the while. Under his unwavering watch, Molly carefully smoothed out the section and stared down at the dim letters there. She held it up towards the light, still unable to read it.

It slowly began to dawn upon her. Scrambling for her letter, Molly sat up and smoothed it out on her lap. Holding up both her letter and Paolo's scrap paper to the light, she pieced them together along their torn seam.

Her arms dropped as she looked to Paolo. Now that his duty was done, the boy had grown awkward. He pulled at his cap, spinning it around so that the brim hid his face though the lack of light was doing that job already. "I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't find ya."

Molly gasped out a laugh, gratitude sweeping over her features as she leaned forward and pulled Paolo in for a hug. Somehow, there was a sense of humor to the situation. She sniffled and gave him a good squeeze around the shoulders. "Thank you, Paolo. I'm sorry, too."

Paolo uneasily allowed himself to be hugged by the distressed girl, a single thought of realization fleeting through his mind. _So_ this _was why people wrote love letters…_

* * *

It was cloudy, and the air smelled like rain.

Toby had casted out towards the middle of the river and watched his line get swept up by the current until it ran out of distance. It hovered in a good spot between the rocks. He was sure to find some catfish there.

He couldn't believe he had been such a coward. Or how badly his plan had backfired. Molly was probably doing just as Paolo had said – happily off with some chum bucket who stole the claim on his letter. Except without the chum bucket part. Toby didn't have any enemies. It's not like whoever won Molly's adoration was a bad guy… But maybe just a little chum-ish.

Toby had a full basket of fish, and they just seemed to keep coming. He should have been having a great day. That is if yesterday wasn't weighing so heavily on his mind. Like a load of bricks. A load of rejection bricks. A load of rejection bricks heading straight for the dump.

 _Alright, it's no good to dwell on the bad things. Focus on the positives._

 _Like… the fact that Molly doesn't know you're a total loser._

 _That it's someone else's lucky day since you gave them that letter to call their own._

 _That she's happy with what you said._

That was right. Molly was touched by his letter. That was something that was truly worthwhile. No matter the outcome, that alone brought Toby a sense of closure.

He breathed through his nose and held his fishing rod with both hands, looking up at the clouds. He really was happy for her. It was a strange mixture of emotions, ones that he never had to deal with before. Pitiable rejection yet lingering hope. Utter turmoil but there was a new beginning on the horizon. Crushing depression… but also bittersweet acceptance.

"Who am I kidding; I don't feel like doing anything," Toby muttered to himself, reeling in his line. He would be done for the day. He had enough of a haul to be proud for two days of fishing, and he wasn't going to torture himself. Now that his affections had been completely rejected and annihilated and dangled like a carrot before his nose – _alright, alright_ – he needed to spend some quality time with his own thoughts. Reflect and learn from the matter. And above all, relax. Toby couldn't let himself beat his bruised ego into putty. He had suffered enough, and he needed to logic and reason his way back into homeostasis.

Thumping footsteps coming down the grassy slope of the forest clearing echoed behind him. They sounded a bit heavy, but Toby's first instinct was to call out to his little cousin who was probably summoning him for dinner anyways. "I'm just finishing up, Paolo – look at all of the trout I…"

Toby's sentence trailed off and died on his lips as he watched in dumb amazement as Molly marched up and stopped at the river's edge beside him. He finished taking in his line, noting that he had lost the bait on his hook anyways. He was so unprepared to see her that Toby's only thought was to escape, despite the obvious flaws with such a plan.

Molly took a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting the breeze overtake her senses. Toby crouched by his basket, pretending to appear busy and somehow act like he didn't see her approach. He was so prepared to avoid her. To forget any of this had ever happened. It was so jarring to have her break into his space again when she was the last person he needed to see. Or so he thought.

When she was ready, she opened her mouth and calmly quoted: "You are… the most important person in my life."

He froze. Toby's eyes focused on Molly's farm boots still facing the river.

She continued. "But I don't know who you are…"

Toby painfully forced himself to look all of the way up to meet her face. He found her eyes staring back down at him with a similar pain deep in her irises. Her mouth was a thin, tight line. Toby slowly stood, feeling ashamed. He was found out after all.

Molly looked away first, peering down at a paper she pulled from her red coat pocket. She unfolded the letter, and Toby's eyes gravitated to the bottom where a line of Scotch tape put his signature back in its rightful place.

"Where did you get that?" Toby asked, reaching out instinctively to retrieve it and hide it. His hand then felt his empty pocket in bafflement. It seemed to have magically magnetized to her. _How?!_

Molly reread the letter to herself, shaking her head. She turned to Toby and looked at him again. Really looked at him. With a whimper, her face broke, and she rushed him for a hug.

Toby was so shocked that he could only focus on keeping his balance on the muddy shore as her entire weight crashed into him. His rod slipped from his hand and hit the grass by his basket. Molly held him from under his arms, poking her head up over his shoulder. In a whisper, she said: "It was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me – of course I'd want them to sign it."

He still couldn't find it in himself to hug her back. Toby was still drifting in a cloud of puzzlement at what all of this meant. Molly wasn't going to wait forever, and she let him go, stepping back and roughly rubbing her eyes with the cuffs of her jacket. She laughed, confirming Toby's suspicions that she was out of her mind. "For me it's… it still feels so sudden. I can't believe I was so oblivious."

"Are you…? Does…? I'm sorry?" Toby's wall was still carefully stacked against her, and he raised his hands in surrender. He wished above all wishes that Molly would just come out with whatever it was she was here to say, and _please_ let it not be more bad news.

"I like it," Molly said, looking shy for once as she indicated the letter, holding it up slightly. As if she was afraid he would take it from her, she jammed it back into her pocket for safe-keeping as the wind picked up. She held her wrist and dug her toe into the dirt until she freed a pebble to kick into the water. "What you said… I like it a lot. Thank you."

"Well… you're welcome," he answered. He felt a little light-headed as he bent down and retrieved his rod and wound the hook about the pole to secure it, neatly leaning it against his basket of fish when he was done to keep his hands busy. _This couldn't be happening… but what exactly was happening?_ "I… I'm glad you liked it so much. And I'm sorry I didn't just say it."

Molly stared at him, chewing on the inside of her lip. It wasn't a sudden, happily ever after. She had never seen Toby in such a way, but she was genuinely moved by his words. No one had ever made her feel so… well, as his letter had said: special and amazing and lucky. And she was still reeling from her stupid move last night when she had approached someone else, thinking _he_ wrote the letter, and in one fell swoop, her hopes were dashed, and she was left humiliated, deserving every iteration of the word 'idiot' there was.

She took another deep breath, feeling it rumble in her chest as tears were threatening to spill again. "Would you…? Say it, Toby?"

The way she said his name felt so _right_. Like his name was always meant to sound just like that. Toby knew it was time to bite the bullet, and he took a step towards her with a nod. Molly nervously looked down at their shoes, and he grabbed at the back of his neck for comfort. "I… Molly, I… um…"

Molly looked up, and something in him stilled. Toby realized that she was in the same state he was. Hurt and a little rough around the edges but willing to take a chance, even though the change was nerve-wracking as hell. Toby smiled for the first time in what felt like eons. "Molly, I don't know who you are. But I want to. I want to know… everything. Everything about you."

She timidly stepped up and swung for his hand and missed. Braver the second time, her fingers latched onto his. "I just wanted you to know… that someone loves you…"

Toby took her hand tighter in his own, and she giggled at the gesture with a blush on her cheeks. With a new spring in her step, she leaned past him and snatched up his rod. "That was my favorite part, by the way."

"I'm glad you have a favorite part…" Toby chuckled in embarrassment, taking up the strap of the basket and heaving it up over his free shoulder.

Their hands remained entwined as they walked up the forest path to leave the woods. The clouds began to growl overhead, promising a storm to roll in and soon. Molly gallantly swung their hands back and forth, acting more like herself and finding she liked holding Toby's hand very much.

"You're quite the poet, Toby. You know, even though none of it rhymed or anything. Very eloquent," Molly complimented, waving his rod around as she talked.

"Careful, or you might hook a tree branch," Toby softly cautioned as they scaled the incline.

"And you're so smart! I'm so lucky to get such a nice letter from you," Molly teased, lowering the rod and carrying it more at a horizontal angle as they entered the trees. "Just wait until I learn everything about _you_. Then we'll be getting places!"

By the time they knew everything about one another, Toby imagined they would. Maybe if he was lucky enough, this hand would be holding his, making imperfect rice balls, and learning every little detail until he was old and his hair was grey. …Greyer.


End file.
